Murder and Mayhem and Monopoly, On My!
by lilaclove
Summary: A robbery and murder occurs inside the Santa Barbara Police Department while multiple officers are present. Shawn and Gus try to find out who did it, and how.
1. Tag You're It

**Title:** Murder and Mayhem and Monopoly, Oh My!

**Author:** greenrandomness

**Rating:** K 

**Warnings:** Mild violence and some disturbing images

**Summary:** A robbery and murder occur inside the Santa Barbara Police Department while multiple officers are present. Shawn and Gus try to find out who did it, and how.

**Authors Note:** Hey! This is my first Psych fan fiction, and I just hope it turns out well. The title is similar to a lot of the episodes titles, which means it is a bit odd, a little confusing, and it won't make sense until later. The story itself will be in 6 parts, which despite not actually being written, they are completely planned out.

Also I would like to say now that I am taking some liberties with the layout of the police department, and with some technology…because I honestly don't know if some stuff I say would even work.

**Disclaimer:** Only the story line and any characters you don't recognize are mine…anything else belongs to the creators and owners of Psych.

**Chapter 1- Tag You're It!**

_1987_

A young Shawn Spencer slowly crept down the stairs, expertly avoiding the creaking step at the bottom, he made it to the wood floor without a sound. Pausing momentarily, he glanced around suspiciously. His hazel eyes roamed the entire area; he couldn't get caught. Sliding along the smooth wall like his father had taught him, he had made it half way to the kitchen before he paused again.

A sound, he looked up at the ceiling and held his breath. Each second felt like an eternity, but after only three such seconds, he let his breath out in a relieved sigh. He could still hear his father hammering away at the broken railing of the porch. He was safe for a little while longer. Glancing at the clock above the stove, Shawn noticed that it was 7:25; his bus would be arriving at any moment.

Sprinting to the kitchen table, he threw caution out the window, and grabbed his father's wallet. Pulling a crisp five-dollar bill out from the leather, he swiftly moved to put it into the back pocket of his jeans. Unfortunately, before it reached its destination he was smoothly turned to face the opposite direction.

"Uh…Hi dad…" He smiled. The look on his face was purely angelic, but the open wallet in his left hand, and the five in his right hand, was enough to condemn even the most saintly of children, and Shawn had a record of being anything but saintly.

"Shawn, what do you think you're doing?" Henry demanded; his voice carefully controlled…for the moment.

"Well…would you believe that the money put _itself_ in my hand?" He asked hopefully, but all he got in return was a straight face and an outstretched palm. Handing the money and wallet back to his father, Shawn averted his eyes from the pale blue ones staring at him.

"Why were you trying to steal from me, you know— " The loud honk of the school bus outside, interrupted Henry's reprimand, and Shawn smiled again. Grabbing his backpack from the floor, he started to run to the door, but a firm hand on his shoulder stopped him mid stride.

Looking up into the still smoldering eyes of his dad, Shawn said, "I have to go dad, that's the bus." Trying to pull away again, he was once again stopped short.

"I'll drive you today." Henry responded smugly, and as if on queue the bus pulled away, leaving a desperate Shawn staring after it wistfully through the window. Henry grabbed his car keys from the counter and walked the rest of the way to the door with Shawn following hesitantly behind him.

Once they were on the road Henry asked his son once again why he had tried to steal from him.

"I had a good reason! I swear dad, you know I wouldn't—" Shawn babbled only stopping when his father put his hand up.

"There is no good reason to steal." He looked over at his son, "What you are going to tell me is an excuse."

"Dad, I took your money because a friend on mine needed it. Her dad got fired, and she hasn't had lunch money for the past week!" He stared at his father pleadingly; surely that was good enough reason. It was to help someone, not to buy a game, or to spend on candy, how could his father be angry with him when it was for someone else.

"Shawn, no matter what the reason, stealing is wrong. I understand that you wanted to help your friend, but you went about it the wrong way." Henry explained, but his son soon cut him off.

"But dad—" Shawn began.

"No buts, Shawn." He interrupted, "Have you ever heard of doing the wrong thing for the right reason?"

"Um…no…?" Shawn replied with uncertainty. He looked through the window, if he tried hard enough he could just barely see the brick of his school around the corner; he was almost free.

"Doing something for a good reason doesn't automatically make it good. Most of the time, you can reach the same goal by doing the right thing." He explained as he pulled into the school parking lot.

"Dad…"Shawn tried to interrupt, but the man was stopped.

"There better not be a repeat of this incident…no matter what the reason." He continued, locking the doors when Shawn tried to get out.

"Dad I'm—" Shawn began again with pleading eyes.

"Shawn, you can have the five dollars that you took," Henry said, pulling it out of his wallet, "because I would have given it to you if you would have asked," He explained holding it out to his son. As Shawn reached for it he pulled it back, just out of his reach. "But, you are officially grounded for the next two weeks." Henry concluded, placing the money in his son's small hand.

"But dad!" Shawn cried indignantly, drowning out the sound of the doors unlocking.

"Go on, or you'll be late for school." He replied, dismissing Shawn firmly.

Angrily grabbing the door handle, Shawn threw it open, and stormed out the car. Glancing back over his shoulder, he stomped up to the building and through the doors.

_Present day_

Throwing open the doors, Shawn flamboyantly entered the police station, with Gus trailing slowly behind him.

"Good morning! And what a fine morning it is, wouldn'tcha say Gus?" Shawn smiled happily at Gus, who just stared back.

"You do realize that it is pitch black outside." Gus stated gesturing to the window, which true to his word was almost completely lacking light. "It's practically hurricane weather out there, and you think it's a 'fine morning'!" Gus exclaimed, staring at Shawn incredulously.

"You're just cranky because we had some trouble getting here." He replied, crossing his arms.

"Trouble? Trouble?" Gus nearly screamed, leaning in closer to Shawn. "You call having a falling tree nearly hit my car 'some trouble'!" He harshly whispered as he realized that the entire station was staring at them.

"Yes, yes I do Gus, and do you want to know why?" Shawn baited him, obviously not caring that the entire station was watching, or maybe that was why he was doing it.

Sighing, Gus played along, "Sure, Shawn. Why?"

"Because we didn't get hit!" He cried as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"I give up, Shawn. I really do. I just give up." Gus fell into an unoccupied chair, and tried not to imagine how close they had come to being just another accident article in the newspaper.

Shawn began to meander around the station, greeting everyone he passed. Suddenly he stopped and yelled, "Tom!" running up to a tall man somewhere in his early 50's, "It's been months since I last saw you!"

"Hey, Shawn." He smiled pleasantly while arranging some files on his desk, "How've things been?"

"Great, great." Shawn replied readily, bouncing on his heels, " How's your wife, I heard she was sick?" He asked sobering up almost immediately.

"She's been better, but at least now she's with the family. She's being cared for at home…as long as our insurance holds up." He sighed, but soon brightened as a young man carrying a khaki messenger bag walked up. He pulled him over, and put an arm across his shoulders, "Shawn, I would like you to meet my nephew, Mark, he just graduated the academy."

"Nice to meet you," Shawn replied sticking out his hand, "I'm Shawn Spencer, the department's Psychic Consultant."

Shaking his hand readily, Mark replied, "Mark Spies." He paused, his eyebrows raised as he continued, "Psychic consultant…I didn't know they had one."

"Oh they do, and I just happen to be him," Smiling again, Shawn withdrew his hand, "So Mark, how's cop life treating you? Have you met Lassie yet?"

"Good…and I'm guessing you aren't referring to the Collie?" Mark inquired, running a hand through his sandy blonde hair.

"There's a Collie named Lassie?" Shawn asked, quirking an eyebrow, but before Mark could answer a loud boom sounded, and the lights flickered off.

"What was that?" Gus asked shakily as he walked up behind Shawn.

"Ah!" Shawn screamed, before turning around "Don't do that, man! Haven't you ever heard the saying 'never sneak up on a psychic.'?"

"I thought that was 'never wake up a sleep walker'? Gus replied.

"Well…" Shawn started, but was interrupted by the chief.

"I need someone to go check out the fuse box." Interim Chief Vick announced to the almost completely dark room. Only a few flashlights, and the emergency lighting brightened the area.

"I'll do it Chief." Tom announced, borrowing a flashlight from a nearby officer.

"Thank you Sergeant Quinn. Take someone with you just incase." Karen Vick instructed, watching as he complied readily, bringing his nephew along with him.

Soon they were down the hallway and out of sight, leaving the rest of the station to try and carry on their business without lights. Shawn, seeing his opportunity, grabbed Gus's arm and pulled him over to Juliet's desk. When they were a few steps away, he put his fingers to his lips in the sign for 'quiet', and crept towards her. Gus grinned, and crept up on the other side.

Shawn counted down on his fingers from three. One finger down, two fingers down, but as the last one fell a second deafening noise shook the building. It echoed through the room, and sent everyone running for the back of the police department.

"Shawn, was that what I thought it was?" Gus asked as they joined the rush of nearly twenty police officers down the hall.

Pushing their way through the throng of people standing near the last door on the left, Shawn responded, "Did you think it was a gunshot?" while pushing through the final group of people.

Standing at the front of the group, they could see why everyone was staring; the man charged with guarding the evidence room was lying dead on the floor with a gunshot wound to the head. Shawn continued, "Because I'd say that's a pretty fair assumption."

**TBC**

**Author's note:** I'm going camping for the next few days, but I will be writing while I am gone, so if you guys are interested in having me continue this, please REVIEW!!!


	2. Treasure Hunt

**Title:** Murder and Mayhem and Monopoly, Oh My!

**Author:** greenrandomness

**Rating:** K 

**Warnings:** Mild violence and some disturbing images.

**Summary:** A robbery and murder occur inside the Santa Barbara Police Department while multiple officers are present. Shawn and Gus try to find out who did it, and how.

**Authors Note:** Here's the next chapter. I hope you guys all enjoy it. The entire fan fiction is now complete. I just need to type it all. Oh and for future reference Mark Spies last name is pronounce Speez. I know someone with that last name. Thank you, everyone, for all of the reviews so far.

**Disclaimer:** Only the story line and any characters you don't recognize are mine…anything else belongs to the creators and owners of Psych.

**Chapter 2- Treasure Hunt**

Detective Carlton Lassiter moved to the front of the crowd to take in the dead officer lying in the evidence room. Turning to Shawn he quipped, "How'd the 'Spirits' miss this one, Spencer?" Using the ever so popular air quotes to show his disbelief.

"They were distracted by your lovely hair, Lassie-face!" He exclaimed, "Have you been using new conditioner?"

"Spencer," Lassiter growled, his expression dark. He opened his mouth to continue, but another voice spoke first.

"I found something really weird outside," Tom Quinn announced as he ran up the still barely lit hallway, but by the time he reached the group of officers the lights had flickered back on. " I went to see if anything in the garage could have caused the blackout, when Mark and I had some trouble…Oh my god." He ended in shock as he too saw the man lying dead on the floor.

Mark joined the group not a minute later, his wide-eyed gaze flicked from the body to his uncle, and back before he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. He had obviously never seen a dead body before.

"Okay everyone, we need to know what happened." Declared Karen Vick, pointing to Detectives Lassiter and O'Hara, she said, "I need you two to inspect the scene, check to see if anything's missing." They both nodded and walked into the room.

They quickly began to search the dimly lit area, despite their misgivings. The dusty shelves and small cramped quarters had made it foreboding before, but now with a dead body smack dab in the center of the room it was even more so.

Officer Louis McRory's body was lying at an awkward angle on the cool cement of the evidence room. His uniform was rumpled, and splattered in blood from his shoulders to his collar. His normally clean brown hair was matted with blood and gray matter from a very noticeable wound. The bullet hole in the middle of his forehead had destroyed a portion of his scull, marring his once handsome face, and killing him almost instantly.

The blood, at one point flowing freely, was starting to clot now that his heart had stopped beating. It formed rivers of red over his eyebrows and downward, slowly dripping off his chin and jaw before landing on the collar of his uniform; the once clean black was sullied by the sticky substance. Dull lifeless hands were lying at his sides as the body slowly cooled. An officer was dead, and the entire department had been only a hallway away.

Turning to Sergeant Quinn, Karen asked, "What did you find in the garage? Do you think it has anything to do with this?"

"Yes ma'am." He replied, "I found some debris near an electrical outlet, it looked like someone blew the fuses by creating some sort of power surge." Tom explained, looking over his shoulder suspiciously before continuing, "I think the blackout was planned."

Meanwhile Shawn and Gus made their way into the evidence room. Lassiter and Juliet where examining the body, which gave them the perfect chance to search the room.

"What do you think happened?" Shawn inquired, searching the shelves with his eyes.

"I..." Gus gulped, prying his eyes away from the body, "don't know, but can we get out of here?" He gulped again, looking a little green. Maybe it was the smell of fresh blood permeating the room, or maybe it was the fact that he knew this man, Officer Louis McRory. He knew that he had a wife and two kids, and he knew that those kids would never see him again. Whichever it was, Gus was feeling much more queasy than usual.

"Chief," Lassiter called, gesturing to Karen, "We found something."

"What did you find detectives?" She asked crouching next to the pair.

"It looks like he was shot with his own gun." Juliet responded with a grimace, trying to remain objective when she knew the man, correction had known the body, was rather difficult.

"We haven't found it yet, but…" Carlton began, only stopping when a cry sounded from the other side of the room, interrupting him in mid sentence.

"Soda!" Shawn yelled waving his arms around wildly before holding his head as if in pain.

"What is it, Shawn? What do you see?" Gus asked, playing along.

Chief Vick moved to a standing position, and sighed, " What do you see, Mr. Spence?"

Staggering around the room, he held out his hand and nearly crashed into a disgusted Lassiter before veering sharply to the left.

"Mountain Dew? Sprite?" He mumbled before opening his eyes, "Is there a vending machine in here?" When no one replied he held his head again, " Coca-Cola…Coke!" He cried, pointing to a shelf that was roughly waist high.

"Cocaine." Thomas Quinn interjected as the chief look over the shelf; a small amount of fine white powder was visible against the dark wood. "We had a huge bust two weeks ago, five kilos of pure Cocaine with a street value of over one-hundred and twenty thousand."

"It's gone." Juliet responded looking to the empty shelf in shock.

"How does five kilos of illegal drugs get stolen and a man get murdered, inside of a police station?" Gus rambled, clearly upset, "Isn't there security or something?"

"Yes, Mr. Guster, there is plenty of security." The chief replied, chagrined at his accusation. "Unfortunately, it was all knocked out when the power failed.

"Ma'am," Mark inquired, walking into the evidence room, seemingly having composed himself. "I think I found how the culprit escaped." Leading the group out of the evidence room and to the right, he pointed to a broken window.

"Good work." Chief Vick said, patting him on the back, "Can I count on you to get everyone out of this area?" She asked.

"Of course, Chief." He replied timidly, and started ushering people out. Shawn noticed him bringing a hand up to a thin silver chain on his neck; a brief moment of panic passed crossed his face as he grabbed the empty chain. Seconds later he schooled his features and spoke to the chief before leaving the building.

Shawn shrugged, moving towards the window. Looking out, he saw the broken, but not crushed glass glinting on the wet grass; no one had stepped on it.

"Gus, come look at this." Shawn whispered, pulling his friend to the assumed escape route.

"What? It's just a broken window." He replied with exasperation, squinting his eyes at the rain splashing through the opening.

"The glass, Gus, the glass hasn't been stepped on!" Shawn exclaimed happily, his smile a mile wide.

"So…?" Gus asked, knowing that only Shawn could ever know what Shawn was thinking.

"I think there is more going on here than everyone seems to think…Hi Ho, Magic Head. Away!" He cried, grabbing the sides of Gus's head and starting to walk backwards.

"Shawn!" Gus yelled trying to pull away. " I told you never to call me that!" Gus tried to hold his ground, metaphorically and literally, but Shawn won in a few seconds, and pulled him to the garage.

Reaching the garage, Shawn bent over what had once been an electrical socket. The blackened outlet was surrounded by plastic and metal debris, a few wires were still intact, but for the most part the entire device was destroyed.

"Shawn, this looks like it was some sort of bomb." Gus announced, crouching down next to it.

"Yeah." He mumbled in response. Grabbing a pen out of Gus's front pocket, he slowly sifted through the debris.

Unfazed, Gus continued, "Whoever did this must have plugged it in and used the explosion to kill the power."

A small silver circle was visible, looking at it a little closer, Shawn could see engraving, in what looked to be Latin on its surface. The circle was a pendant from a necklace.

"That's not the only thing he killed." Shawn said, standing up.

"He?" Gus asked, also rising.

"Mark!" Shawn exclaimed, but at Gus's confused look his face fell. "What?"

"He was with us when the lights went off." He reasoned, not seeing how Mark could have done it.

"…Maybe there was a timer or something on it…"

"Yeah!" Gus agreed, "He must have set it before he came in!"

"Then when Tom went to go check it out, he killed the cop, stole the coke, and broke the window!" Shawn continued.

"Then he ran back to the fuse box and waited!" Gus exclaimed, finishing their little brainstorming session.

"I think it's time for the Spirits to contact me again." Shawn proclaimed dramatically as he and Gus rushed back inside.

Before reaching the office, Shawn slowed down and put his fingers to his temples as if he was having another vision. Gus opened the door and walked in, but Shawn did not follow. The chief stopped speaking mid sentence, and stared at Gus. A moment later Shawn peered around the door.

"Can I help you, Mr. Spencer?" She asked, clearly agitated. The fake psychic started humming the mission impossible theme and sliding along the wall.

"He did this all the way here." Gus sighed, "I think it's another vision."

"Mission impossible." Juliet guessed.

"Can't we just skip this and get to the point?" Lassiter scowled as Shawn pretended to have a gun and did a summersault across the floor. His acrobatics left him right in front of the chief's desk, and under her piecing gaze.

"007?" Juliet guessed again, always ready to try and decode Shawn's 'visions'.

"Detective Lassiter is right, Mr. Spencer. We don't have time for games."

Shawn jumped into a standing position, "Not even Monopoly?" He asked

"Yahtzee?" Gus suggested.

"Six Degrees?"

"Twenty Questions?"

"Twenty Questions isn't a board game, Gus."

"Neither is Six Degrees."

"It should be!" Shawn decided, " That would be so—"

"Did you eat paint chips as a child?" Detective Lassiter deadpanned.

"Detective." The chief warned before turning to Shawn who was about to reply, "The point. Mr. Spence."

Closing his eyes again he announced, "…spies."

"Spies?" Lassiter groaned, "You're saying that spies did this."

"Not me, the Spirits." Shawn corrected with his hand in the air. "But no, I don't think they mean spies as in Sean Connery, Pierce Brosnan, and Tom Cruise." He paused in thought. "Although _he_ may be evil…the vote is still out on that." Remembering the point of his reference he closed his eyes in thought, placing his index and middle fingers to his temple on each side. He began to mumble, "…spies…spiiiiiiies…speeeeeez."

"Mark Spies!" Gus said as if receiving a great revelation.

"That's it, Mark Spies!" Shawn agreed, his eyes snapping open. "Are you sure you're not psychic, Gus?" Everyone rolled their eyes, but Shawn didn't see it because he had once again closed his own. " I see Spies…he's placing the device in the garage, it has a timer…five minutes. He stands up to leave…a coin, no the pendant from his necklace falls to the ground." Shawn finished opening his eyes. "Spies caused the blackout."

"You're saying—" Chief Vick began.

"Spirits." Shawn interrupted.

"What?" She asked, confused at his outburst.

"The Spirits are saying." He replied as if it was obvious.

"Okay…fine." She sighed for the umpteenth time that day, "The Spirits are saying that Mark Spies was in on the robbery—"

"Yes." Shawn and Gus both replied simultaneously, before looking at each other competitively. A moment later they both cried "Jinx!" and glared at one another as they tied again.

"Gentlemen." She interrupted, "There is no evidence to suggest that officer Mark Spies had anything to do with the robbery." She looked to Lassiter who smirked at the pair.

"You do realize that Mark Spies was at the top of his class in the academy, and that his uncle is a highly decorated officer." Lassiter informed them with an air of superiority.

"That doesn't mean a thing, Lassie!" Shawn said, "When was the last time one of my visions was wrong?" He questioned, and when the detective refused to answer both he and Gus crossed their arms in triumph.

"Shawn we have reason to believe that it was the dealers who came back and took the drugs." Juliet interjected.

"Why would they risk breaking into a police station? They were already in enough trouble." Gus reasoned.

"The drugs were worth over one-hundred and twenty grand, that is more than enough reason for a dealer." Detective Lassiter scoffed, also crossing his arms.

When the chief didn't seem to be changing her mind, Shawn fell to his knees, "At least check it out, Chief!" Shawn pleaded, dramatically folding his hands as if in prayer. "When have I ever been wrong?"

With a sigh, Karen Vick nodded and turned to the two detectives, "Go to the garage and see if his vision is correct. After that…we'll see."

Jumping to his feet Shawn smiled, and followed a sullen Lassiter, and a slightly amused Juliet to the garage.

Reaching the garage Lassiter stopped just inside the doorway, and turned to look at Shawn. "I predict…" He said, holding his fingers to his temples in an imitation of the fake Psychic, "that there is absolutely nothing here." With a sarcastic smile he walked down the few steps to the floor. Crouching down he began to sift through the debris just as Shawn had done only a short while before.

With Juliet kneeling next to him, he used his pen to move the matter around. Not a minute later he encountered a small silver circle. Gently blowing the blackened dust off of its surface, he revealed a pendant of St. Michael, the patron saint of police officers.

Shawn and Gus discreetly hit firsts behind his back. "Good thing you're not the psychic, Lassie." Shawn started, but the man's glare stopped him dead.

"Let's get back to the Chief, O'Hara." He scowled storming away, letting the door slam behind him. The three shared a look between them before following.

By the time Juliet, Shawn, and Gus had reached the chiefs office, Lassiter had already filled her in and was standing in front of her desk with his arms crossed. When Shawn entered a scowl fell onto his face.

Once everyone was present, Karen Vick looked to Lassiter and O'Hara, "Detectives, I want you to go speak with Officer Spies. Mr. Spencer, Mr. Guster, I want you two to go with. See if you can pick anything up."

Shawn yelled "Field trip!" as he ran out the door with Gus only steps behind him.

"He's not riding with us." Lassiter announced before walking swiftly out of the room with O'Hara in tow.

**TBC**

**Authors Note: **So there was the second chapter. It was quite a bit longer than the first and the rest will be also…although maybe not this long…who knows. I hope you all enjoyed it. Please review :)


	3. Clue

**Title:** Murder and Mayhem and Monopoly, Oh My!

**Author:** greenrandomness

**Rating:** K 

**Warnings:** Mild violence and some disturbing images.

**Summary:** A robbery and murder occur inside the Santa Barbara Police Department while multiple officers are present. Shawn and Gus try to find out who did it, and how.

**Authors Note:** Here is the 3rd chapter; I hope you guys enjoy it. **READ THIS PART OF THE AUTHORS NOTE -**** - **Also, the first two chapters have been revised. I edited some of the dialogue, added some more description, and overall just made it smoother. Feel free to re-read it if you want, but it's not necessary. No plot details changed or anything, but if you do read it you'll get at least one more slightly humorous comment from Shawn and a description of the body in the evidence room...plus quite a bit of other descriptions. Oh and by the way any suggestions are welcome and all reviews are considered, no matter whether they are good or bad.

**Disclaimer:** Only the story line and any characters you don't recognize are mine…anything else belongs to the creators and owners of Psych.

**Chapter 3- Clue**

Running to Gus's blue company car, Shawn and Gus tried to avoid the raindrops still failing from the threatening sky. The wind whipping through the trees pulled at their clothes and slammed the drops into their faces with stinging force. Shawn turned to Gus, "Was it just me, or did Lassie seem a little cranky?" He asked, but at Gus's disbelieving look he continued, "…Er than usual?"

"A cop was murdered, you know how personal that makes it." Gus replied, "Someone kills a cop, and the entire force is up in arms."

"Yeah, I guess you're right…plus it happened in the station." Shawn agreed turning to look out the window; his fingers tapped an impatient rhythm on his jean-clad leg.

"Yeah…" Gus paused. "Shawn?" He inquired, looking at him briefly.

"Hmm?" Shawn answered still watching the wet streets and dark sky. Occasionally glancing through the front windshield to see Lassiter and Juliet's car driving carefully down the street in front of them.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Positive! Once we find Mark he'll confess to everything." The psychic confidently responded before leaning his head against the cool glass of the window

Ten minutes of following the detectives brought the pair to Mark Spies apartment. Getting out of the car, Shawn caught a glimpse of the alleyway behind the building. A Single masculine hand was just barely visible from his vantage point. The rusty brown of dried blood was almost unnoticeable on his fingers.

"Or not." Shawn groaned, earning a confused look from Gus.

"What—" He began, but Shawn's sudden and loud collapse to the ground drowned out the rest of the sentence.

Juliet and Lassiter stopped a few yards from the alley to stare at the flailing display that was Shawn Spencer. His arms were waving wildly as he collapsed to the cold, damp pavement, moaning like a man on his deathbed.

"Is he okay?" Juliet half shouted, taking a step closer to the two. A large boom of thunder nearly drowned out her question. Shawn moaned louder in response, clutching his torso.

"Spencer." Lassiter rolled his eyes, starting to walk again, but Shawn's rather realistic cry of pain made him pause, and caused Juliet to go running to the fake psychic's side.

"Oh god!" He cried prying his eyes open to stare at the two pairs of worried eyes above him. "It hurts." He moaned pitifully.

"Shawn…?" Gus asked, his voice made slightly higher by his worry that something may actually be wrong.

"Spencer! What the hell are you doing? We don't have time for this!" Detective Lassiter yelled, walking briskly back to them. Although before he reached the others, Shawn stood up, an empty look on his face.

"Mark Spies is dead." He intoned in a flat voice, causing everyone, including Lassiter, to stare in shock. "There." He pointed to the alley. Moments later he shook his head as if coming out of a trance. About to speak, he opened his mouth again, but Juliet and Lassiter had already run to the alley.

Gus punched him in the shoulder. "Next time warn me!" He whispered, barely containing his anger.

"I can't control the Spirits, Gus." Shawn grinned, earning himself a glare. Gus quickly stalked away, his tense shoulders and straight back showing his irritation. Jogging to catch up, Shawn reached him just as he reached the detectives.

Juliet was still in a mild state of shock. Her wide-eyed stare was still trying to take in the scene in front of her. Mark Spies lay in a pool of his own blood. His once sandy blonde hair was dripping wet, and covered in the dirt and grime of city streets. His once tall frame was curled in a sick imitation of the fetal position, his legs eternally bent as if trying to push himself out from between the two buildings that had become his deathbed.

The hands that had only hours before shook hands with Shawn were now stiff with rigor mortis, one vainly holding onto the gaping wound just above his belly button, while the other reached out to the street. In his last moments Mark Spies had been trying to reach help, he had tried to save himself. Unfortunately, he had failed, dieing in a back alley of Santa Barbara with only dirt, a rusted green dumpster, and the trash inside it as company.

"I'll call the chief." Lassiter said solemnly after a minute of silence. Pulling out his cell phone, he walked a few feet away and turned his back on the grisly sight in the alley.

Shawn came and stood next to Juliet, while Gus stood slightly behind her to the left. Gus gently placed a hand on her stiff shoulder and smiled reassuringly when she turned to look at him. Shawn took in everything he could, knowing that he and his partner wouldn't be there for much longer.

He could see that the wound on Mark's stomach had been the cause of death. The ragged two inch long incision indicated that the knife was most likely relatively large and serrated. It also showed that it had been plunged into his body and then sharply yanked down, lengthening the incision and nearly doubling the blood flow. The distinct lack of bruises or scratches showed that there was no struggle, which lead Shawn to believe that Mark Spies had known his attacker.

"Spencer, Guster, I want you two out of here." Lassiter ordered,

"But—" Shawn replied, in a whiney child-like tone.

Predicting Shawn's argument, he crossed his arms, "We don't need any 'psychic' assistance." Lassiter said. "So why don't you take you're little sidekick, and get out of here."

"Let's go, Shawn." Gus conceded, almost haughtily. He placed a hand on his friends shoulder, and gently steered him away. As Shawn was pulled away from the crime scene he saw one final piece of evidence. A small bag of white powder was near the body. It couldn't have held more than an gram of the drug, but he knew that it had come from someone with a lot more stashed away.

"It's a setup!" Shawn cried as he and Gus got into the blue car.

"How is it a setup?" Gus asked, a note of disbelief in his voice. Turning the key in the ignition, he looked to the fake psychic, waiting for an explanation.

"Don't you see, Gus!" Shawn exclaimed enthusiastically, which for anyone else might have been considered odd due to the fact that they were talking about a dead body.

"No, Shawn, I don't see. Unlike you I don't have the Spirits to guide me." He replied mockingly, only sparing Shawn a quick glance as he traversed the slick roads.

"He wants us to think it was a drug deal gone bad, or that the dealers were trying to make it look like it was a deal gone bad." Shawn explained, completely disregarding the psychic jibe.

"What?" Gus asked, totally lost by Shawn's leap in logic. "Like that makes sense." He replied sarcastically looking back to Shawn a moment later. "And 'he' who, who is 'he'?"

"I don't know yet…" Shawn replied leaning his head against the window again. "But I will soon. I just need time to think."

Later that night, Shawn lay in his darkened bedroom, tossing and turning in the rumpled coverings of his bed.

"Who is it?" Shawn half moaned staring at the stark white ceiling of his room. "Who did it?" He asked himself for the hundredth time that night. Slowly sitting up in his bed, he threw his legs over the edge, and placed his bare feet onto the cool wood of the floor. Placing his head in his hands, he wracked his brain for the answers.

Jumping up he began to pace the length of the room. "How did he do it…who is the other guy?" He mumbled, and suddenly it was like a herd of stampeding wildebeests had just hit him. "That's it!" He yelled, not caring if he disturbed his neighbors. "How could I have been so stupid?"

He grabbed his cell phone, and quickly dialed Gus's number. After five rings he heard a muffled "'lo"

"Dude! I figured it out! I know who did it!" He exclaimed loudly into the phone.

"Shawn." Gus moaned sleepily, holding the phone away from his ear slightly.

"I can't believe I missed it! I just can't believe it!" He ranted ecstatically into the phone, oblivious to the man on the other end's mood.

"Shawn." Gus tried again to get his friends attention

"Really, I mean how stupid can I get? It was right in front of me the _entire _time!"

"Shawn!" Gus yelled, finally stopping the happy rant on the other end. "It is three in the morning, I have work tomorrow, and I specifically told you _not_ to call me past ten tonight." Gus admonished crossly, frowning into the phone.

"But Gus—"

"I specifically said not to. No matter what, and I meant it, Shawn. I'm not doing anything, except sleep, from ten p.m. until six a.m. I'm not going to run all over Santa Barbara on some half-formed hunch of yours." Gus continued holding his ground.

"I need to get a look at the alley." Shawn said pulling on his pants, not believing for a second that Gus wouldn't give in.

"No. I have a 'real' job that I have to go to tomorrow. I can't be up half the night."

"I can't go without you, man!" Shawn pleaded standing in the middle of his room in a pair of jeans, no shirt, no socks, and the phone cradled against his shoulder.

"No." He replied, not giving in. "I need to sleep. If this can wait until my lunch break tomorrow, I'll go." Gus decided, pulling the phone away from his ear.

"But Gus…" Shawn pleaded again, putting as much hurt and sorrow into his voice as possible.

"Goodnight!" Gus called loudly into the phone, hanging it up before Shawn could reply. Moments later he was once again fast asleep.

"Gus…Gus…I know you're still there." Shawn said coyly before pausing. "Gus?" He pulled the phone away from his ear when he got no response, and frowned as he closed it, ending the call.

He placed the phone in his pocket as he began to pace once again, his bare feet padding against the wood as he continued in a never-ending loop around the room. "I'll wait…yeah I can do that." He announced to the room before collapsing onto the mussed bed. "Patience is a virtue after all."

Shawn looked at the clock hours later. He had been trying to occupy himself since three a.m., and it was now ten. "Close enough!" He said loudly, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

"Gus!" Shawn practically yelled into the phone.

"Good morning to you too." Gus sighed, still slightly irritable from earlier.

"You have to take an early lunch. We are going to that alley!" Shawn demanded, his jacket already on and his keys in hand.

"Shawn." Gus began.

"I'll meet you there in a half an hour." He continued, ignoring Gus. Hanging up, he grabbed his helmet and walked out the door.

"I just can't—"Gus replied weakly to the dead line, trailing off when he realized that his friend had already hung up.

Hanging up the phone, he dropped his head down on the desk in front of him. "I'm staying here." He decided. " I have responsibilities. He never really needs my help anyways" He reasoned, his words muffled against the dark, smooth wood of his desk. Breathing deeply, he steadied his resolve, but a few seconds later his breathing turned into a huge sigh, and he stood up. Grabbing his keys, he hurried out of the office.

When Gus reached Mark Spies apartment building he could already see the fake psychic impatiently pacing in front of his motorcycle.

"Dude!" Shawn cried gesturing widely with his arms. "What took you so long?" Gus opened his mouth to reply, but Shawn didn't give him the time. "Never mind, we have a murder to solve. Onward!" He announced briskly jogging to the passage, leaving Gus to try and catch up.

Once there, Shawn ducked under the yellow police tape, and crouched next to the still visible pool of blood. The rust colored stain was dull against the dark asphalt; the rain had been washing it, and all of the other physical evidence, away while Shawn had been doing nothing at his apartment. Luckily, Shawn had seen enough the day before to visualize the crime scene, body and all.

Closing his eyes, he placed his fingertips to his temples in an effort to concentrate. Blocking out the few cars whizzing by, and the pattering of the persistent drizzle that had begun earlier that morning while Shawn was reorganizing his CD collection by band name, album release date, and color. He ignored the dog barking two doors down, and the children's laughter and screams of joy that could be distantly heard from the elementary school a few blocks away.

He visualized Mark's body on the ground. He could see the stab wound, the lack of bruises, and the small bag of Cocaine as if it were all still there. Opening his eyes he saw a few splatters of blood leading to a large dumpster against the wall.

"The murder weapon." Shawn said just loud enough for Gus to hear. "They never found it."

"How do you know?" He asked crossing his arms.

"It's under the dumpster, I'd bet my life and all the Pineapples in Hawaii on it." He replied, lying down to look under the metal container.

With his face next to the ground, his cheek pressed to the damp pavement, he could see a medium sized knife lying against the brick wall. The dried blood on the blade was clearly visible, and he could tell that the edge was serrated, just like he had guessed. "Gus! I—" A bullet hitting the wall above the dumpster caused his words to die on his lips.

As he froze another hit the street near his feet. With a girlish scream he jumped up and ran behind the large metal dumpster, pulling a stunned Gus with him.

**TBC**

**Author's note**: Here's the third chapter! I hope you all enjoyed it. Even if you didn't please review and tell me what you think.


	4. Follow the Leader

**Title:** Murder and Mayhem and Monopoly, Oh My!

**Author:** greenrandomness

**Rating:** K 

**Warnings:** Mild violence and some disturbing images.

**Summary:** A robbery and murder occur inside the Santa Barbara Police Department while multiple officers are present. Shawn and Gus try to find out who did it, and how.

**Authors Note:** Here is the 4th chapter, it would have been out sooner, but a power outage screwed up my Internet, and school started again. I am dreading being in that building all day…it is sooooo warm in there. The upside is that I'm a senior now…only one more year left! Yay!!! Anyways…happy reading, I hope you all enjoy this chapter because we are getting close to the end now people!

**Disclaimer:** Only the story line and any characters you don't recognize are mine…anything else belongs to the creators and owners of Psych.

**Chapter 4- Follow the Leader**

"Gus!" Shawn whispered urgently as another bullet whizzed by and hit the wall near their heads. "I need you to go to the station and tell them who did it."

"I hate to burst your bubble, Shawn, but I have no idea who did it!" He practically yelled in response before ducking as another bullet hit near by.

"Okay…listen carefully." Shawn began, crouching behind the dumpster as he tried to reach the knife again. "Sergeant Thomas Quinn organized the entire thing."

"Tom?" Gus replied in shock, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. He had never even suspected the sweet natured man he had met months before. He was a family man, a grandfather, and a good, no, great cop. He was the last person you would suspect to be corrupt.

"Yeah, he, Mark, and Louis were all in on it. Tom blackmailed Louis into helping; he knew that Louis had a gambling problem. Unfortunately for Lou's family, his hobby had put them into some serious debt." Shawn explained; his voice strained as he tried to reach behind the trash receptacle. The metal was frigid against his cheek, and his shoulder was pressed against the wall as he tried to reach through the small gap between the brick and the dumpster.

The smell of garbage, wet asphalt, and dried blood was nearly nauseating, but he did his best to block it out. He didn't have the time for distractions. He had to explain to Gus, and get the knife before one or both of them got shot. He would not let Gus get shot because of him.

"How do you know that?" Gus asked in a slightly annoyed tone. "Or should I even ask?"

"How do I know anything?" Shawn paused as if waiting for an answer, when none came he continued. "I have an ethereal connection to the unknown." He smirked, but another bullet slamming into the brick near them wiped it away as swiftly as it had come.

As the small chunks of brick flew from the impact site, they ducked away. Cringing against the metal, they tried to stay away from the shrapnel while still staying behind the dumpster. Once it was safe to stand in a relatively normal position again, Shawn continued, "Anyway…" He said stretching the word out. "He got Mark into it by playing the family card. He used them to steal the Cocaine. He must have needed money for something…he's retiring soon." He added as if it was an afterthought.

"So, he used his own nephew for money?" Gus asked incredulously.

"Yeah, all my dad ever does is use me like slave labor." He grumbled before getting back to the matter at hand. "They must have planned to have Mark deal with the power. He set up the bomb, like we originally thought. Then, when he and Tom went to go check out the fuse box, they made a quick stop in Evidence." Shawn paused taking a breath. "Lou let them in and helped them load the drugs into…into where." He stopped in thought, ignoring the commotion around them. Gus was thinking too, trying to figure out where five Kilos of Cocaine could have been hidden.

"The bag!" Gus realized with a grin.

"The Bag…" Shawn said before a look of realization crossed his face. "The bag! The messenger bag he had with him when we met. He must have put the drugs in there." Shawn continued with a frown. "It was literally right in front of us the whole time!"

"I can't believe we missed it." Gus groaned, "Some detectives we are."

"We have it now, though! Louis must have tried to back out during the robbery. Thomas sent Mark back to turn the lights on and break the window, so that he could take care of Lou. He shot Louis with his own gun, stashed the gun somewhere on his person, and then ran to the garage where he 'saw something weird". Shawn continued, finally piecing it all together.

"Mark was horrified when he saw Louis, he didn't think that anyone would die. He was going to turn himself in, but Tom got to him first. " Gus added looking sickened at the thought of a man killing his nephew, his own flesh and blood, for drugs. This man was a member of the police force, he was supposed to protect life, not destroy it.

"He stabbed his own nephew in cold blood, and tried to pass it off as the drug dealers. Before he could leave the scene, he got interrupted and left the knife." Another bullet hit the garbage can, dinging the metal right next to Shawn's hand. A gasp of surprise escaped his lips. Turning to Gus he said, "You have to go now, Gus. Go tell Karen."

"What about you?" Gus asked, sneaking a peak at the street in front of the alley, but another shot sent him against the wall. "You don't know how many bullets this guy has."

"It doesn't matter, I need to get the knife before he does…I'll be right behind you." Shawn reassured putting a hand on his best friend's shoulder.

"Shawn."

"Go, dude, " Shawn demanded, "I'll meet you there." With a smile he pushed Gus towards the other end of the alley. As parting words he called, "And may the force be with you!" in an attempt to lighten the mood before he looked away from Gus's quickly retreating form.

He began to reach for the knife, but doing so caused the bullets to increased in number and frequency, sending stinging shrapnel into his hands and cheek. Pushing against the dumpster in desperation, he strained against its weight. "What the Hell is in here?" He mumbled, hitting it with his palm in frustration.

Swiping at the slightly bleeding cuts on his face, he sighed and thought for a moment. Pulling out a pair of black leather gloves, he quickly put them on. Flexing his hands in preparation, he readied himself for the next few moments. Taking a deep calming breath, he lunged for the front of the dumpster. He would be out in the open now.

He fell to the wet asphalt, reaching frantically for the knife. With his shoulder pressed against the ground, and his body parallel with the metal, he could see the weapon. Its gleaming blade was mocking him as a frenzy of bullets struck nearby. He was in plain view; he was a perfect target. He stretched again, reaching as far as a he could. He felt the blade as his gloved fingers grazed it; he was so close that he could almost taste it…although a bloody hunting knife probably wouldn't taste that great.

Another bullet hit the pavement near his head; swallowing a cry of surprise he turned his face to avoid the sparks and pieces of rock that were kicked up. Tom must not be as good of a shot as he use to be. He should have been hit long before now, maybe Tom didn't want to hit him, or maybe he was just lucky.

Straining again, he knew his luck couldn't hold out much longer. He felt the knife just barely touch his fingers and stretched again. Almost…There! He had the blade, pulling it out he shoved it into the large pockets of his jacket and jumped to his feet. He had to get to his bike, preferably without getting shot.

Staying low to the ground like he had seen so many action heroes do, he ran out of the dank alley and towards his bike, dodging bullets all the way. Jamming his helmet on his head before jumping on, he fumbled with the keys. "Maybe I should consider cutting back on the key chains." He thought, as his miniature Rubix Cube, potato Darth Vader, and multiple other trinkets got in the way. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Thomas hoping into his police cruiser.

Finally getting the key into the ignition, with shaking hands he turned it quickly, and the bike roared to life. It was the sweetest sound he ever heard. Kicking the stand, he peeled down the damp city street, with Sergeant Quinn following close behind. The buildings whipped by as Shawn traveled at a speed clearly higher than the limit. This was going to be one fierce game of follow the leader, the chase was most definitely on.

Gus pulled up to the station and jumped out as quickly as possible. Running up the steps into the building he burst through the door and dashed into Chief Vick's office with desperation. All eyes looked to him, as he stopped in front of her desk. He must have interrupted her meeting with Juliet and Lassiter.

"Shawn…had a vision…it was Thomas Quinn!" He panted, thinking he should get into better shape.

"Mr. Guster, we have reason to believe that Mark Spies was in league with the drug dealers. He was then murdered once he was no longer useful." Karen replied her hands folded in front of her. Her tone was all business, but he knew she would listen. She had to.

"It wasn't the dealers. Thomas Quinn blackmailed Louis McRory and guilted his nephew into stealing the drugs. He then murdered Officer McRory when he tried to back out, and he killed Officer Spies when he was going to turn himself in." Gus explained after catching his breath.

"There is no evidence to suggest—" Lassiter began, a smug look on his face.

"Shawn has the evidence, he's bringing it right now!" Gus cried, his worry for Shawn seeping through. He shouldn't have let Shawn stay alone. They could have just called, but it hadn't crossed either of their minds…or at least not Gus's. When he really thought about it, he knew that Shawn had just wanted to get him out of there, and he had panicked causing him to not realize it.

"Mr. Guster." The Chief began again.

"Please Chief, just wait. He'll be here." Gus pleaded before she could continue, but a moment later he mumbled, "I hope." And crossed his arms in worry, it was almost a self-hug.

Shawn chanced a glance behind him as he raced down the wet pavement. He payed no heed to traffic lights or road signs, he didn't have the time. Zigzagging between the few cars on the road at 10:45 a.m. was an easy task. This was what his bike was meant for, high speed chases through city streets, or at any rate that was how Shawn saw it.

A Porsche here, a Jeep there, A Ford or two, none of which were any match for his maneuverability. His dad may have despised his motorcycle with every fiber of his being, but the vehicle was probably saving his life right now. Without it, Tom would have caught him right off the bat, police cars are bought with speed in mind. Most cars wouldn't have been able to evade the sergeant for too long, to do so would have meant massive detours and probably quite a bit of damage, if not to him then others.

As the police department came into view only a ways before him, he knew that Tom was closing in; he could almost feel the heat from the other man's car. This was the final stretch of the race, and it was practically neck and neck. Either he made it or he didn't at the moment. It was a life or death, now or never, last chance sort of thing.

It was parachuting from a crashing airplane when you're afraid of heights. It was asking out the girl you had been pining after for all of high school on your graduation day. It was pretending you are psychic, when all else fails, to avoid being accused of a crime. He was so close; he was going to make it. He had to, there was no choice in the matter.

He could hear the loud whirring of a police siren, and looked over his shoulder to see that Quinn had turned his lights on in a last ditch effort to reach him before he reached the station. It would draw attention, but so would Shawn producing a murder weapon to the cops.

Blowing through a red light amidst the honks and curses of other drivers, Shawn finally reached the station. Squealing to a halt, he nearly crashed his bike as he just barely avoided sliding. Parking as quickly as possible he jumped off. He could hear Quinn pulling up and slamming his door as he too reached the department.

The fake psychic made a mad dash for the doors, running up the steps. He could hear another pair of feet just behind him, and another pair of lungs panting with adrenaline. Pulling open the doors with a sharp tug, he leapt through the opening. He was safe. The whole of the Santa Barbara police department now had his back…or his front if you wanted to be literal.

A sudden force against his body slammed him into the floor. He let out a cry as one hundred and eighty-five pounds of rage and hysteria landed on top of him, knocking the air out of him and pinning him to the ground. His head bounced of the ground with a harsh smack, leaving his world spinning. He could feel a trickle of new blood joining the scrapes and dirt on his cheeks.

He must have looked terrible. Brick dust all over his clothes and in his hair, blood and dirt on his cheeks. Scrapes and cuts all over his face, and hands, although no one could see the latter due to his gloves. His hair was a mess because of his helmet, and his clothes were rumpled and stained. He imagined he looked like Hell, but now probably wasn't the best time to be worry about whether or not he could impress the ladies.

The knife was sent skittering across the floor as the fall jostled it from its precarious position in his pocket. It slid under a desk, and lay there innocuous and unnoticed. Trying to blink away the stars, he barely noticed the arm being placed across his neck. The world had stabilized slightly, but he could barely breath. The arm against his windpipe, and the body on his back, where forcing out what little air had returned after his fall.

A quick yank by Thomas Quinn pulled the still dizzy man to his feet. With an arm across his throat, and a gun to his head, Shawn was officially the hostage of a desperate murderer. All of the police officers in the room where staring at the pair in shock, the situation not quite sinking in yet. He could see Jules, Lassie, and Gus standing next to the chief in front of her office.

No one could quite process the scene. Shawn, the resident psychic, loved by most, and grudgingly respected by the rest despite their protestation, was being held captive by Thomas Quinn, one of the nicest men on the force, with years of service under his belt. A few months ago, if there had been a department betting pool over whether this would happen, even Shawn would have lost money.

With a flourish Shawn spread his arms wide, or at least as wide as he could spread them with a man holding him hostage. "Ladies," He nodded to Juliet and the chief, "Gentlemen," He continued with a quick nod to Gus and a group of male officers near him, "Lassie-face," He smiled at the detective. "I give you sergeant Thomas Quinn, Thief, murderer, and extortionist extraordinaire!"

Every cop in the room pulled their gun in one swift motion, holding them aloft and pointed at their former colleague. The clicking of holsters and safeties drowned out all other sound for over a minute. This was going to be what many would call a showdown.

**TBC**

**Author's Note:** Here is the forth chapter, I hope you all enjoyed it. If you did…review. If you didn't…review. If you didn't even read it you can still review (although I don't know what you would say…). Any feedback is good feedback in my books.


	5. 20 Questions

**Title:** Murder and Mayhem and Monopoly, Oh My!

**Author:** greenrandomness

**Rating:** K 

**Warnings:** Mild violence and some disturbing images.

**Summary:** A robbery and murder occur inside the Santa Barbara Police Department while multiple officers are present. Shawn and Gus try to find out who did it, and how.

**Authors Note:** Here's the 5th and almost final chapter! I hope you guys all enjoy it!!!! Soon this little fan fiction will be finished…so please review and tell me what you think! **IMPORTANT: **This chapter has a lot of viewpoint switches throughout it, but they are right after the character speaks so it is easy to see who is thinking what.

**IMPORTANT:** The _italics _in this chapter are a memory/flashback/vision.

**Disclaimer:** Only the story line and any characters you don't recognize are mine…anything else belongs to the creators and owners of Psych.

**Chapter 5- 20 Questions**

"Shut Up!" Thomas yelled, shaking Shawn roughly before pressing the cold steel of the barrel more firmly into his temple. Closing his eyes, Shawn took a deep calming breath, or at least tried. The arm around his neck was making any deep breathing relatively difficult.

"Put the gun down, Quinn." Lassiter called in an even voice, leveling his gun at the man before him slowly, in an effort not to startle the sergeant. He couldn't drop the gun leaving himself a target, but he could at least try to be subtle about it being there. He knew that any sudden moves could make his former coworker snap, the rage shaking the man's body made that easy enough to see.

Sergeant Thomas Quinn of the SBPD was trembling with barely suppressed fury. His hands shook when he stopped concentrating on steadying them, and his eyes were darting every which way to the men and women with guns trained on him. They were all once his friends, he was even quite close to some of them, but now every single one of the officers where miles away from him.

He in his blood spattered, and rumpled suit holding his once close friend at gun point, and they crisp, clean, and dark in their uniforms pointing a gun at the man they had once called friend. The only thing holding them together was the badge each one of them carried, including him, and the man he was minutes away from killing.

"No!" He yelled shaking his head to clear his thoughts, and clutching Shawn closer so that he was nearly cutting off the young man's air. "I can shoot him before you can shoot me, you know that detective." He announced putting a slight amount of pressure on the trigger. He could feel his hostage sliding slightly, and knew he had to let up on the pressure. If Shawn passed out, he would be without a hostage. Dead weight can't get you anywhere, least of all when you are in a room full of cops.

Shawn blinked away the spots in front of his eyes as he looked at the ground, and tried to hold away the blackness creeping at the edges of his vision. Taking another gasping breath, he tried to concentrate. He couldn't pass out; he couldn't let it get to him.

Luckily the arm around his neck loosened a bit; just enough for him to get a descent breath, which he gladly took. Gulping in the air that had until that moment been sparse and hard to reach, he filled his lungs hoping that the air would help him concentrate. Clearing his throat, he looked up at the police officers in front of him, and began what he knew might be his last conversation.

"You picked the wrong hostage, man, that detective over there is tempted to shoot me daily." Shawn informed him, once he had enough air. "At least this way he wouldn't be the one going to jail." He smirked at the men and women in front of him, and turned his head slightly to glance at the man restraining him.

He could hardly turn his head due to the position he was being held in, but he could just barely make out the man's eyes if he turned as far as he could while he was in a headlock. The brief glance he managed to steal revealed Thomas's malice filled eyes, eyes that made him want to stop talking. He knew he should shut up. He knew he should stop pushing, but he also knew that he never shut up, and he rarely stopped pushing, so he decided to ignore half of his thoughts and get on with what he had to do.

"Shawn." Gus warned biting his lip, he tried to take a step forward, but the chief stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder. She wasn't going to let him get involved in this, but he couldn't just stand by and watch as his best friend died. He wouldn't let that happen, but he also knew that right now he couldn't do anything. Which made him unhappily cross his arms, and wait. Which was all he could do, that and hope, hope that he wouldn't lose someone today.

"Sergeant, I understand what you are going through, but you have to—"Chief Vick sympathized, but she was unable to finish. Thomas had forcefully cut in halfway through her statement.

"You couldn't possibly understand, _Karen_!" He sneered, placing special emphasis on her name. "When was the last time you murdered your own nephew? Have you ever even stolen anything, let alone taken a hostage?" He yelled; his eyes crazed. "I don't think so." He answered himself, in a soft dangerous voice. "I really just don't think so."

After a moment of silence, the hostage in question spoke up, "Speaking of which…why'd you do it?" Shawn asked, looking once more at his captor. "Did you want some excitement in your life? Did you need a little extra money to jump start your solo career?" Shawn pestered, trying to get something out of the man. "I know you always wanted to make your own techno polka dance record, but really Tom…"

"Not another word." The former police sergeant growled into his captive's ear, pressing slightly harder on the thin trigger of his gun. Shawn realized that he was a slip of the finger away from dieing; he didn't doubt that this new, desperate, and slightly unhinged Tom would kill him. In fact, he accepted it as a likely outcome, but he continued to babble on anyways.

"I know the pension isn't great, but seriously, robbery, murder, extortion…isn't it a little much?" He asked rolling his eyes dramatically, "You could have just gotten another job…I hear that MacDonald's is hiring."

"I mean it, Spencer." Thomas Quinn yelled, he had known this man for a year, and he had never been this annoyed by him. Although, given the circumstances, it would make sense that they weren't on the best of terms. This was an extremely high stress position they were in, and both of them weren't quite feeling their best.

"So it's Spencer now? Normally, that fine Irish man over there is the only one that calls me that…come to think of it, he is normally the one threatening to shoot me too." He paused in superficial thought, clearing his throat again in an attempt to rid himself of his near strangulation frog in the throat. "Maybe there's some sort of connection!"

"Mr. Spencer…I suggest that you keep your comments to yourself." The Chief demanded softly, hoping to God that one of her men was not about to be shot down in front of her. His methods may have been unorthodox, but Shawn Spencer was as much a part of this department as any of her officers. Even if he didn't have a badge or carry a gun, he was probably one of the best detectives she had.

"Anyway!" Shawn cried, ignoring the woman only yards away, he knew she was right, but he couldn't stop himself. He needed to know why his friend had done this, and suddenly a memory came back to him as if there really was something out there sending him the answers.

"_Hey, Shawn." He smiled pleasantly while arranging some files on his desk, "How've things been?"_

"_Great, great." Shawn replied readily, bouncing on his heels, "How's your wife, I heard she was sick?" He asked sobering up almost immediately._

"_She's been better, but at least now she's with the family. She's being cared for at home…as long as our insurance holds up." He sighed._

That was it! Closing his eyes dramatically, Shawn began to have a vision. He had way less to work with due to his current circumstances, but no one has ever said that Shawn Spencer can't improvise. Arching his back, he groaned as if in pain and began to mumble. "I see a woman!" Thomas tensed up, whether it was from the thrashing of his hostage, or of what the 'psychic' had said, no one was really sure, but either way it wasn't a good sign.

"Stop it!" Thomas yelled, hitting Shawn upside the head with the gun, causing the men and women of the SBPD to tense and move forward, holding their gun's aloft and pressing on their triggers just slightly harder than before. Many of them tried to get a shot, but the officer before them knew that he had to stay behind the body or else lose his cover, so he held his former friend up, keeping everything vital behind the drooping man.

It wasn't an overly hard blow, but Shawn's already sensitive head rebelled at the action. A real groan escaped his lips, and he slipped further downward as the world spun. He heard a yell of "Shawn!" come from somewhere to his front left and knew it was Gus, but his dizzy mind wouldn't let him respond. The strong arms of his captor held him up as he dropped, but soon he was coming back to himself.

Once he was reoriented, he continued, being aware of the fact that he didn't have much more time before Tom lost it. Loosing it in fact may have been too light of a term, he had a feeling Tom would explode, and he needed to get was really going on, in case…in case he was a casualty of the sergeant's foiled plan.

"It's for his wife!" Shawn cried, opening his eyes to stare at the sea of black uniforms before him. "He stole the Cocaine so that he could pay for his wife's healthcare!" He added, watching as the officers' faces showed a quick moment of compassion before it was covered by professionalism.

"Is that the reason, Tom?" Lassiter asked calmly, still holding his gun on the man, but now he was a foot or so closer than he had been before, leaving Shawn to wonder when that had happened. "Was it for your wife?"

"Yes!" Shawn exclaimed enthusiastically, not allowing Thomas to respond. "His pension wasn't going to cover her medical bills, so he decided to steal one-hundred and twenty grand worth of Coke." He announced, wincing slightly in preparation for some sort of retaliation, but none came.

His holder merely began to quaver more than he previously had; his body was tense, his muscles taut, and his eyes glassy and wild. Shawn didn't have much more time, if any. "You never planned to kill anyone, did you Tom? They wanted to turn you in." Shawn paused to take a breath, his breathing still regulated by the tense arm across his throat. "But your own nephew? Really? He trusted you, and you killed him." He finished, looking down and shaking his head in disappointment.

"Shut up!" Thomas Quinn yelled, flinging Shawn to the right side of the station tile. His eyes were wide and glazed, his left hand was clenched at his side, and his right was tightly holding the weapon he would soon use. "No one was supposed to die. We were just going to take the Coke, and go, but Lou…he… and then Mark..."He let out a choking, quivering sob, "I had to kill them, they were going to turn us in."

He took a deep breath and continued, trying to compose himself. "I couldn't let that happen, I needed the money for Dianne…" His eyes grew cold and blank as he focused solely on Shawn, "You! It would have worked if you hadn't gotten into it! You ruined it all!" He cried, holding the shaking gun level with the young man, the alleged psychic's, chest. "You freak! You ruined it all!"

Shawn closed his eyes as Thomas's finger tensed on the trigger. This was it. He was officially dead, or at least shot. He knew this was coming, but he had to let the police know the whole story one way or another. "I wonder how bad it'll hurt?" He mused as he waited milliseconds that seemed like hours for the bang that would lead to a bullet in his chest.

He flinched as a loud bang sounded, but he felt nothing. Was he dead? No, he was still breathing, he wasn't in pain, and he wasn't numb. The bang had been something other than a gun, either that or he had magically stopped the bullet with his mind, and he highly doubted that. A scuffle followed the bang, and he concluded that 'no, I have not been shot'.

Opening his Hazel eyes, Shawn saw Detective Lassiter hand cuffing a stunned Thomas Quinn. "You are under arrest, Sergeant. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law." He intoned pulling the bedraggled and bewildered man to his feet.

With a relieved sigh, Shawn sat up, blinking a few times to clear his hazy vision. Once he could see correctly, he noticed a hand being held out to him. Taking the proffered hand of his best friend, he used it to get to his feet.

"Are you okay, Shawn?" Gus asked worriedly, looking over his friend for anything worse than he could already see.

"I'm fine. Don't worry about it, it's just a bump on the head." He smiled ignoring the pounding in his head and the sting of the small cuts on his hands and face. He was alive, and that was reason enough to smile, but it soon slid off his face, as he was brutally punched in the shoulder. "What was that for?" He howled, holding his sore arm, with his still gloved hand.

"That," Gus replied indignantly, "Is for nearly getting yourself killed!"

"But Gus…" Shawn started to whine to no avail. His friend's stoic face left no room for argument. Knowing he would lose this argument and honestly being too tired to argue, he looked away from his friend and saw detective Lassiter pulling away the man who had caused everything that had happened the past two days; the man that Lassie had saved him from. Turning towards the detective, he said "Thanks, Carlton."

Lassiter nodded slowly in response, appreciating the thanks, but being a bit shocked by the sincerity he saw in them. Turning away to hide his surprise, he pulled Quinn with him towards the few jail cells in the department, all the while reading the criminal his Miranda rights.

"Mr. Spencer." Interim Chief Karen Vick called him over, "That was reckless and stupid. You could have gotten yourself killed!" She continued once he and Gus had reached her, crossing her arms. By all rights Shawn should have been dead, but Carlton Lassiter had seen his chance and taken it while Sergeant Quinn had been occupied. If he hadn't they would have been cleaning more blood from the station floor.

"Hmmm that sentence sounds familiar…" He replied, crossing his arms, and tapping his chin. At her glare he dropped his hand and responded again, "You're right chief." in a remorseful tone.

"That man nearly killed you today, I hope you realize that." She retorted crossly, a stern look on her face.

"I do realize that Karen, may I call you Karen?" He asked, not waiting for a reply, "but I also realize that…I wasn't!" He answer back a huge grin on his face, throwing an arm over an unsuspecting Juliet's shoulder, who unfortunately for her had been walking over to see if Shawn was okay. "And I have the fine officers of the Santa Barbara Police Department to thank for that!" Shawn's grin widened at everyone, but Juliet's groan. She was too busy checking him over with her eyes to add to the group's exasperation.

Sighing, the chief ordered, "I want you to get checked out at a hospital, Mr. Spencer."

"But—" He began to complain, obviously going to use the 'I feel fine' line.

"That is not a suggestion, Mr. Spencer." She added. "But before you go, where is the evidence?" She asked remembering how that was his original plan for proving his vision.

"Right over there." Shawn proclaimed, pointing to a long hunting knife lying under one of the officers' desks. It had slid there after he had arrived in the building, and had been there the entire time, completely unnoticed by the officers and his attacker.

"Detective." She said to Juliet, who was still at Shawn's side, "Go collect the weapon."

Juliet nodded and walked away, throwing a smile in Shawn's direction after deciding he was okay, and then continued on her way towards getting the knife and bringing it back to the chief.

Shawn saw her smile and returned it before also meandering away, his best friend at his side. "So Gus…I'd say that went rather well."

"You're insane!" Gus replied. "Really… I think you are. You almost died!" He practically yelled as he and Shawn walked out the door.

"Gus, I already respond to that…" He sighed, "Do I really need to repeat myself…again?"

His partner only groaned, "Fine, Shawn, I'm going back to work." He decided getting into his car and turning it on. In a moment he began to pull away, but Shawn's yelling caused him to stop.

Standing on the street corner two yards away, Shawn stared at the almost retreating car. "But Gus, I'm injured…" He yelled pitifully, puppy dog eyes, and pouting lips firmly in place. "Unless, of course, you want me to ride my bike?" Shawn questioned, trying to pester Gus, but at the same time recognizing that he probably shouldn't drive at the moment.

Putting the car into reverse, Gus grudgingly went back for his friend. No matter what Shawn did, he could never really leave him. The fact that Shawn had nearly died today had him shaken already; he couldn't leave his friend at the department without a ride and a possible concussion, no matter how much the rational part of him wanted too…and man did it want to "Get in, I'll give you a ride." He sighed, unlocking the door.

"Thanks! Next time I'll give you a ride!" Shawn exclaimed sliding in happily while Gus tried to stop thinking about how embarrassing it would be to be ride on the back of Shawn's motorcycle.

"Uhhh…no thanks." Gus replied, but Shawn didn't comment, and the next minute or two was spent in silence as Shawn stared out the window.

"Pull Over!" Shawn suddenly yelled as he pointed to the side of the rode.

Gus quickly pulled to a curb in the middle of downtown, thinking his friend was ill, or had seen something. "What is it?" He asked frantically, looking first to a relatively okay looking Shawn, and then to the normal looking surroundings. "What's wrong?"

"I…"Shawn replied slowly, "Need a smoothie, and since there is a shop right there…" He continued pointing to the restaurant right beside them.

"No, Shawn!" Gus yelled, fuming at his best friends inconsideration, and immaturity. "We," He pointed to the both of them in turn, "are going to the hospital," He continued pointing up the road, "because you," He pointed again at Shawn, "are injured!"

"Nice use of hand gestures…are you learning sign language?" Shawn asked frivolously, starting to open the door, but Gus was soon speeding away towards the hospital, with a Smoothie-less psychic in tow.

**TBC**

**Author's note: **The next chapter will be relatively short. Probably around the length of the first one, and will just be a short wrap up like the last 5ish minuets of the show after the last commercial. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter…and whether you did or didn't please review!


	6. Bingo!

**Title:** Murder and Mayhem and Monopoly, Oh My!

**Author:** greenrandomness

**Rating:** K 

**Warnings:** Mild violence and some disturbing images.

**Summary:** A robbery and murder occur inside the Santa Barbara Police Department while multiple officers are present. Shawn and Gus try to find out who did it, and how.

**Authors Note:** Here is the end everyone! The last chapter, the final segment, the wrap up is now at hand! Here it is, and I hope you all enjoy it.

**Disclaimer:** Only the story line and any characters you don't recognize are mine…anything else belongs to the creators and owners of Psych.

**Chapter 6- Bingo!**

Shawn and Gus quickly walked up the short sidewalk to 456 Jennings Road, leaving Gus's blue Echo parked near the curb. The house, a pale blue, two-story family home, was buzzing with activity; multiple police officers where going in and out of the building while others were searching around the perimeter of the house. As the pair neared the middle of the sidewalk they noticed the Chief and Lassiter standing on the clean white porch.

"HEY!" Shawn yelled waving enthusiastically as he and Gus jogged up the steps and stopped beside the officers. "Why'd you guys call us here? And where's Jules?"

"Detective O'Hara is inside retrieving the stolen Cocaine." Lassiter replied, "It was in the back of the closet just like you said it would be." He continued crossing his arms in front of him.

"Yeah…the beyond told me it would be right where that terrible tie of yours should have stayed." Shawn responded pointing to the man's red and blue-stripped tie, before grinning cheekily.

"At least I dress myself Spencer." He scoffed, motioning to Gus, "We all know that Guster picks out your clothes for you."

"That was low Lassie, I would never insult your intelligence like that." Shawn feigned emotional injury, before crossing his arms. "Although, you must think your comebacks up in advance, because I know for a fact that you aren't that quick." Shawn contradicted himself purposely smiling when the detective turned red.

"Spencer!" He growled, but the chief put a hand on his shoulder, communicating something with her eyes that only the detective could see. He left a moment later, slamming the white screen door behind him; soon the dark of the house swallowed his shape.

"I wanted to thank you two for a job well done." Karen Vick smiled. "You caught Quinn, found the murder weapon, and told us the whereabouts of the stolen drugs." The chief congratulated once Carlton was out of earshot, shaking each of their hands.

"It was nothing, Chief." Gus replied, shaking her hand happily.

"It was the spirits, I am only their humble—" Shawn began but was interrupted by a sound to his left.

"Yeah right!" Gus exclaimed in disbelief, trying to poorly disguise it with a cough a moment later.

"…Connection to this plane on existence." Shawn finished his sentence and shook her hand before looking to his friend. "You should really get that cough checked out, Gus." He worried with mock concern oozing off of his words, which only resulted in the other man rolling his eyes.

"Should I make the check out to them, then?" The chief asked, not a second after, barely even being phased by the friends' bantering.

"No!" Shawn and Gus both cried in unison causing their favorite interim police chief to smile at their expense.

"…No that's okay, chief. My partner and I will gladly accept payment for our services." Gus continued coolly, pretending as if the outburst hadn't happened.

"Yeah…they don't need money anyways." Shawn interjected, before scrunching his eyebrows in thought, wondering whether there was money in the afterlife or whether everything was free…because the latter would be awesome! Then he began to wonder if there was an after life, but before his thoughts got too deep he noticed Juliet nearing the door.

Juliet emerged from the dim house nearly as soon as Shawn noticed her carrying a khaki messenger bag and a tan folder. She was flipping through the pages as she stepped out onto the porch, and had not even seen the group of people near the door. A moment later the screen door fell shut, and she looked up noticing them for the first time, "Hey Shawn, hey Gus." Smiling happily she continued, "We found it!" as she held up the bag and displayed a smile from ear to ear.

"That's awesome, Jules!" The fake psychic replied happily before furrowing his brows. "But…uhh what's going to happen to Mrs. Quinn?" He asked, shooting a look into the barely lit interior of the house as he grasped that she was now without husband and still in need of medical assistance.

"Yeah, Sergeant Quinn did this all for her." Gus added, a troubled look on his face. Thomas may have tried to kill Shawn, but his wife hadn't done anything, she was as much a victim in this as anyone else. She may never see her husband again because of his actions, and he had done it to help her.

"Well," Karen began, "the department is going to be raising money for the family over the next couple months."

"It should be enough to pay her medical bills for quite a while." Juliet informed the two; her smile dimming a little as she also realized that Dianne's husband might not see her ever again.

"That's good." Gus agreed, and Shawn nodded.

"We could have done the same thing earlier if Tom would have just told us he needed help." The chief sighed, a cheerless look crossing her face, "But he thought he had to do it himself." She closed her eyes and shook her head, as if breaking herself out of a reverie.

"The wrong thing for the right reason." Shawn whispered to himself, a look of comprehension appearing on his face, when he finally understood what his dad had meant all those years ago.

"What'd you say?" Gus asked, having not heard his friend.

"Nothing…you know what I want to do?" Shawn asked changing the subject quickly and effectively.

"No…what?" Juliet wondered aloud, raising a delicate eyebrow and crossing her arms.

"I," Shawn began dramatically, "Want to play Monopoly!" He exclaimed throwing his arms up in the air. "Who wants to play with me?"

Everyone blinked at the sudden change in the conversation, and remained silent. His expectant look penetrated each of them, but overall had no effect.

When no one responded, he looked to each of them in turn, "Gus? Jules?" He pleaded, but they just shook their heads in response, both of them smiling in amusement, turning to his last chance he said, "Come-on I can't play alone…Chief?" He implored, folding his hands in front of him, but the Spencer charm had failed him.

She too just smiled and then walked away, with the others following. Shawn wasn't even sure where they went, or why they went together, but he was sure they were not playing just to spite him. "How can they not want to play Monopoly?" He inquired to the air, as he stood alone on the stark white porch.

Looking into the screened door, he remembered that there was still one person he had yet to ask, yanking it open he ran inside calling, "Lassie!" while the screen door slammed behind him.

**_Fin_**

**Author's Note: **So…what did you think? The story is finally over and now you should all review so that I can be a happy author. :D I have another fan fiction in the works and may write the first chapter today if I get the motivation to do…so we'll see about that. So just tell me what you think and happy reading!


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